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Garlic browns in oil; long beans toss in to colour briefly. Soy and vinegar pour in with bay and peppercorns; the beans braise covered until tender. Lid off; the liquid reduces to a glaze. Salt at the end, not the start, since soy is salty enough.
Long-grain rice is toasted briefly in oil with onion, garlic and sometimes a small piece of bell pepper. Hot water and salt go in; the pot is covered tightly and the rice cooks undisturbed for 18 minutes. Five minutes' rest off the heat finishes the steaming. The grains stay separate.
Plain steamed rice (often last night's leftovers) is the base. A hot temper of mustard seeds, urad dal, chana dal, cashews, dried red chilli and curry leaves is bloomed in coconut oil, then fresh grated coconut is folded in and warmed through. The rice is tossed through everything off the heat, so the grains stay separate and pick up flavour rather than soften.
The "gumbo of herbs", the green Lenten gumbo traditionally made by Cajun and Creole families during the fasting weeks before Easter, when meat was off the table but the bowl still had to be filled. You build a dark roux first, flour cooked in oil to peanut-butter brown over a long patient stir. The Cajun trinity of onion, celery and bell pepper goes in to soften, then a mountain of finely chopped greens (collards, mustard greens, turnip tops, spinach, chard - the more varieties the better) piles into the pot with stock. Forty-five minutes of slow simmer takes the greens to meltingly soft and turns the broth into a deep nourishing green-brown. Hot sauce, filé powder and a scoop of white rice finish each bowl. Lenten or not, the dish stands on its own as one of Louisiana's quieter masterpieces.
Jhal muri (literally "spicy puffed rice") is the most democratic snack in Bengal: assembled in seconds from a tin trunk by a muriwala, tipped into a rolled-newspaper cone, and eaten standing on a pavement for the price of a few rupees. The base is muri (puffed rice), and everything else is built around the principle of contrast. Raw mustard oil is the soul of the dish, sharp and nasal and slightly bitter; without it you have a salad, not jhal muri. The vegetables stay raw and crunchy, onion, green chilli, cucumber, tomato, chopped into tiny dice so each spoonful gets one of each. Peanuts and chana chur (or sev) add fat and crunch; black salt and chaat masala add the funky-tangy depth that makes Indian street snacks addictive. The lime goes in last so the puffs don't soften. This is a dish where technique matters less than ingredient quality: muri must be crisp (refresh in a dry pan if it's gone soft), mustard oil must be the proper pungent kind, and the lime must be fresh. It is everywhere in Bengal, tea-time at home, train platforms, the Maidan on a winter afternoon, and there is no recipe in any cookbook that quite captures the feel of it being mixed in front of you in a paper cone.
A temper of mustard seeds, chana dal, urad dal, peanuts, dried red chilli and curry leaves is bloomed in sesame oil. Turmeric is stirred in for colour. Cooked, cooled rice is tossed through off the heat, then lemon juice is added at the end so the heat doesn't dull the acidity. Bright lunchbox classic; the dish should taste fresh and tart, not muddled.
Yellow split peas (chana dal) simmer with onion, turmeric and tomato until very soft. The lentils break down into a thick soup. Right at the end, a tempering of mustard seeds, curry leaves, dried red chillies, garlic and shallots is poured sizzling-hot over the surface. The aromatic oil seeps through; the dish transforms.
Silken tofu poaches briefly in salted water (firms it up so it doesn't break). Dried shiitake mushrooms rehydrate and chop fine. Doubanjiang fries in oil until the oil reddens; mushrooms, garlic, ginger and chilli flakes follow. Stock loosens; tofu joins gently; cornflour slurry thickens. Sichuan peppercorn dust at the table.
Black beans simmer with bay and oregano until tender. Sofrito (onion, pepper, garlic, cumin) cooks in olive oil; the cooked beans plus their liquid join in; rice is stirred through and steamed in the bean broth until tender and tinted.
A wok is heated hot; garlic flashes briefly in oil; vegetables go in by cook time, firmest first (broccoli, carrot, baby corn), then softer (mushroom, snow peas), and the leafy ones at the end (water spinach, bok choy). A small amount of vegetable stock and soy steams them through; oyster sauce (vegetarian) and sugar balance. Sesame oil to finish.
The Monday dinner of New Orleans, the dish traditionally cooked on washing day because it could simmer unattended on the back of the stove while the laundry got done. You soften the Cajun trinity of onion, celery and bell pepper in oil, then bloom smoked paprika and Cajun seasoning in the heat. Soaked red kidney beans go in with stock, bay and a generous handful of thyme, and the pot simmers slowly until the beans are tender. In the last thirty minutes, you partially mash some of the beans against the side of the pot. That mash is what thickens the broth into a gravy and gives the dish its defining velvet texture. A splash of vinegar and a hit of hot sauce at the finish. Ladled over white rice with a smoky andouille link on the side, the way Louis Armstrong used to sign his letters: "Red beans and ricely yours".
Rice cake is a traditional Chinese preparation that transforms the crispy crust that forms at the bottom of a pot of slow-cooked rice into a versatile, crunchy ingredient. Once dried and deep fried, it develops a light, airy texture that sizzles dramatically when dropped into hot soup or stock. It is most famously used in Sizzling Rice Prawns and is a testament to the resourcefulness of Chinese cooking.
A boiling-water dough rests until pliable. Each piece rolls thin into a long rectangle, gets a brush of sesame oil, salt, and a generous sprinkle of sliced scallions. Rolling the rectangle into a log and coiling it into a spiral creates the laminated layers. The spiral flattens to a disc and pan-fries in a thin slick of oil until each side is deep gold with crispy frilled edges.
The Burmese golden rice, the everyday turmeric-stained rice that turns up alongside curries and stews on the home table. You toast long-grain rice briefly in oil with a chopped onion, turmeric and a small handful of cashews (optional but traditional). Water and salt go in, the pot covers tightly, and the rice cooks undisturbed for eighteen minutes. A five-minute rest off the heat finishes the steam. The grains come out the colour of pale gold, perfumed faintly with onion and turmeric, ready to soak up whatever curry sauce hits the plate.
Day-old jasmine rice goes into the fridge to dry the grains overnight. Garlic slices fine, fries slowly in oil until crisp gold, lifted out and reserved. Cold rice goes into the same garlic oil, stir-fries for 4 minutes breaking up the clumps. Garlic returns; salt and pepper season. Topped with the second handful of crispy garlic at service.
Spicy peanut balls are deep-fried rice balls seasoned with garlic, ginger, chilli, soy sauce, and lime, then coated in chopped peanuts for a satisfying crunch. They make an excellent snack or starter, and pair naturally with a chilli dipping sauce.
Chinese steamed rice exemplifies the power of patience and precise technique. The key principle is using high heat initially to evaporate surface water visibly (watching for characteristic "crater" pattern), then radically reducing heat to allow gentle steaming. The lid must never be opened during steaming; this breaks the seal and ruins the delicate cooking process. The result is fluffy rice with grains that remain separate, never mushy or sticky. Long-grain rice (jasmine or basmati) works best; short-grain varieties retain excess moisture and become sticky regardless of technique.
A spiced tamarind paste is built with a dry-roast of coriander, cumin, fenugreek, chana dal and dried red chilli ground to a powder, then tamarind extract is simmered with the powder, turmeric, jaggery and salt until thick. A temper of peanuts, mustard seeds and curry leaves is bloomed in sesame oil and folded through cooked rice with the tamarind paste, the dish left to rest so the flavour settles. Famously gets better overnight.
Tempeh is sliced into thick fingers; marinated in a paste of garlic, coriander seed, tamarind, salt and water. The batons drain briefly, then deep-fry in batches until crisp and deep golden. Best eaten hot, with kecap manis or sambal for dipping.